


take your time coming home

by sleeponrooftops



Series: we're living louder [2]
Category: Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: ACOK spoilers, ASOS Spoilers, Homophobia, Language, Light Angst, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-19
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-16 15:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which breathing is difficult when done alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take your time coming home

**Author's Note:**

> A few small discrepancies —
> 
> i. I have an utter lack of knowledge regarding acting and what these people are actually like, so I apologize for anything you find wrong or stupid. I screwed up the shooting schedules, too, sorry. Also, I didn’t do written dialect because no. I’ve done it before, and it makes me want to pull my hair out more than creating my own language does.
> 
> ii. You guys already know about Ben being around earlier than he should be, but I’m including the second part of that note: I do not hate Ben, not at all, he’s just playing a part. This should be said for Kit’s brother, John, as well. I don’t know why I keep giving Kit shit people in his life, but I like drama, so. And another note on actors, Simon and Tom are friends in this because they play the coolest characters ever, so that’s that, and I threw Joe and Peter into the mix, as well. Also: oh, hello there, Bradley James. Thanks for visiting.
> 
> iii. Helen’s is a restaurant in Concord, MA, and it’s not a café, but I’ve apparently taken to naming everything even remotely related to food after it in my stories recently, oops.
> 
> iv. I am fully aware that Richard isn’t guest starring on Doctor Who, but I was inspired by his visit to the set to see Jenna, and so, in this, he’s guest starring on Doctor Who.

_February 19, 2012._

“I’m concerned.”

 

Rose looks up at the voice, quirking an eyebrow to one of her fellow wildings.  “Oh yeah, and why’s that?”

 

“Because Jon Snow over there has definitely been getting laid recently, and you haven’t been in his trailer.”

 

“We’re in love _onscreen_ , Ed.  Kit’s just a friend.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

Rose sighs and pushes away from the table, taking her lunch with her.  When she braves the cold outside, a line of cars is slowly making their way back in the distance, but the heat is on in Kit’s trailer, and so she makes her way over, huddling deeper in her jackets after she’s knocked on the door.  Richard answers the door, immediately pulling it wider when he recognizes her.  She hurries in, shivering, and Richard locks the door behind her.  “What’s up?” he says as he comes back up the steps to where she’s shedding her jackets and making herself at home.

 

“Lord of Bones out there is being a dickhead, so I thought I’d stop by.  Saw the heat was on,” she adds, and Richard nods.  “Anyway, I grabbed an extra sandwich and chips, too,” she continues, pulling things from her bag, “I was going to stop by regardless of whether or not Ed decided to take his head out of his ass, and I didn’t see you in there, so I figured you hadn’t decided to step out into the land of eternal winter.”

 

“The ramen was starting to look rather tasty,” Richard admits, going over to the small kitchenette, “Can I interest you in tea?”

 

“You most certainly can.  Got anything _besides_ herbal, or are you just as bad as your boyfriend?”

 

“’Fraid so.  Pick your poison.”

 

“Gods, _fine_ ,” Rose huffs dramatically, “If there’s still some of that black currant, chase it with a lemon.”

 

“Will do.”  As Richard’s putting on the kettle, Rose turns, hooking her arms over the back of the chair and soaking him in.  She would never step foot near their relationship, but she likes looking, _especially_ because it’s Kit and Richard, who is currently leaning one hip against the counter, his jeans low without a belt, and, when he reaches up to get one of the tea packets, his white t-shirt lifts, and Rose smirks, turning away again.  There’s a bruise still forming on his lower back, a circle big enough to be Kit’s heel, and she ducks her head to hide her blush.

 

“So, you guys really kept it secret for a year?” she asks after a moment.

 

“Ehm—yeah,” Richard says, and she looks up in time to see him disappear down the small hall and into the bedroom.  When she leans over to look, there are books and clothes strewn about, and the sheets are a mess, one pillow teetering on the edge of the bed, the case pulled back and bunched in one place as though someone had held onto it.  Richard returns as he’s pulling on a sweatshirt, and Rose smiles; she’s seen Kit in it plenty of times before, and it’s one of those big, roomy ones that you can curl up in.  “Not too difficult, really,” he says as he goes to pour their tea, “There’s not a lot of people that recognize us yet, and ehm—we’re not exactly showing off.”

 

“I can imagine.  Kit’s always seemed kind of private about his love life, even in the short time I’ve known him,” she says, smiling in thanks as he sets a mug down in front of her.  She passes over food for him, and he sits, thanking her, as well.  When he bends slightly, blowing on his tea, Rose has to bite back a laugh, but Richard still catches it, looking up with high eyebrows.  “I’m sorry,” she says, leaning forward and pulling down the neck of his sweatshirt, “You don’t even know what you look like, do you?”  He looks down as she swipes a thumb over the bruise on his collarbone.

 

“Is it that obvious?” he asks, looking distraught.

 

“Not really, but I know what to look for.  Plus, you’re comfortable here.  You’re not trying to hide the fact that Kit dug his heel hard enough into your back that you have a bruise.  I must admit, I didn’t picture him on his back.”  Richard blushes furiously, teeth scraping over his bottom lip, and Rose laughs.  “It’s okay, really.  I may not have known, but I knew there was someone.  He adores you.  Really.”

 

Richard looks up, and Rose knows the question before he even opens his mouth.  “Do you think he loves me?”  He winces even as he says it, wrinkling his nose.

 

“Has he said it?”  Richard nods.  “Have _you_?”  When he nods again, Rose asks, “How did it happen the first time?”

 

“On the phone,” he says after a moment of silence, “Last month.  I said it first.  He, ehm—he said it back.”

 

“Did he hesitate?”

 

“Ehm—no, why?”

 

“Just—he said it back immediately?  No doubts?  No hesitations?  No second thoughts?”  Richard smiles softly when he understands.  “Yes, Richard, he loves you.  Now, I have a question that’s going to sound weird.  Has he ever had a girlfriend?”

 

“You mean, is it going to be awkward next season when Ygritte and Jon sleep together?”  Rose gapes at him.  “Yes, he’s had a girlfriend, and I don’t think he’s ever actually had a real boyfriend outside of Ben and me.”

 

“Ben?” Rose repeats, ignoring the rest for a moment.

 

“Ehm, yeah,” Richard says, looking suddenly uncomfortable, and she frowns.

 

“Like—Ben _Barnes_?”  When Richard looks away, Rose continues, “I knew they were friends.  He’s mentioned him before, but—they dated?”

 

“More like fuck buddies,” Richard blurts out, “He mentioned him?”

 

“Just stories and stuff, though he usually seemed to realize who he was talking about after a moment and stopped.  He said they had some falling out, that they were still friends, but they hadn’t talked in a while.”

 

“Yeah, Ben was kind of—in love with him.”

 

“Ouch.”

 

“Mm.”

 

Before either of them can continue, the locks turn on the door, and Kit comes in a moment later, teeth clattering together.  “Gods, it’s fucking cold out there,” he mumbles, kicking the door shut even as he shrugs out of his Watch cloak.  “Hey Rose,” he greets, knocking his boots off before he climbs the rest of the stairs.  “Hey,” he says, softer, to Richard, who tilts his face up, smiling, and Kit returns it, leaning down to give him a quick kiss.

 

Rose watches as Kit turns away in the direction of the bedroom and Richard gets up, pouring another mug of tea.  Richard turns slightly at the same time Kit calls, “Chamomile!”  Richard opens his mouth, but Kit beats him to the punch, “The apple one!”  When he comes back out, he’s dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, rubbing his hands together as he goes over to Richard, parting his hands to wind them around his waist and press a kiss to the back of his neck.  “I have the rest of the day off,” he whispers, nosing at the nape of his neck, ticklish because of his curls.

 

“Are they doing a wildlings scene?” Rose asks as she starts to gather her things.

 

“Nope, Others prologue,” Kit says, detaching from Richard and sliding in opposite Rose, “You don’t have to go,” he adds with a smirk, “I’ll still be too cold for anything fun for at least a couple hours.  If you want, you can laugh at Richard while he gets his ass kicked in Monopoly.”

 

“Piss off,” Richard grumbles at him, and Rose shrugs, settling back down.

 

Before long, they’re all yelling, laughing, and wasting the day away until there’s only an hour until sunset, and the dinner bell rings.  “Gods, I’m starving,” Kit whines, leaning into Richard until the redhead pushes him away, smiles, and makes his way to the bedroom.  Once they’re all dressed warmly, they head outside, and, for the first time since he got here, Richard is recognized.

 

“Holy shit, it’s the King in the North,” John Bradley says as he sits down next to Rose, punching Kit on the shoulder, to which Kit slaps his hand away.

 

“John,” Richard says with a nod, “How are you?”

 

“ _Cold_ ,” he laughs, “It’s a bloody nightmare out there.  How have you been, mate?  How’s Croatia?”

 

“Fun.  Not nearly as cold, I must admit.”

 

“Lucky bastard.  What are you doing up here in the land of eternal winter anyway?  Booty call, huh?” he teases, winking at Kit, who just smirks and looks over at Richard, who blushes lightly.  “Holy shit,” John says, looking between them, “Wait.”  Rose hides her grin as she looks down at her food, and John just looks like a fish out of water.  “You’re actually here as a booty call?” John whispers, leaning forward and looking at Richard.

 

“That’s a bit derogatory,” Kit says softly, and Richard breaks out in a grin, quirking an eyebrow at him.

 

“Bit spot on, though,” he says, and Kit snorts, leaning his mouth against his fist as his shoulders shake with silent laughter.

 

“You two are— _together_?” John finally blurts.

 

“Who’s together?” Simon asks as he sits, and Richard is laughing now, pushing Kit lightly.

 

“I’m sorry—his face,” Kit says, looking over at John, “Why are you making that face?  You look like someone just told you the biggest secret in the world, except you can’t keep it.”

 

“Because holy shit,” John all but exclaims, and Richard leans his forehead against Kit’s shoulder, his whole body shaking with silent laughter as Rose shakes her head at them.  “This is about as good as it gets.  The badass shithead beyond the Wall is sleeping with the King in the North.  Simon, can you believe that?”

 

“You guys are sleeping together?” Simon repeats, but John is still opening and closing his mouth in disbelief, and Kit can’t answer.

 

“Is this supposed to be a secret that I wasn’t supposed to figure out?” John asks suddenly, dropping his voice.

 

“No, it’s fine,” Kit says finally as Richard straightens again, catching his breath.

 

“Well, _fuck_ ,” John lets out on an exhale, “How long?”

 

“A year,” Richard says with a shrug.

 

“A _year_ , Jesus!”

 

“Gods, someone change the subject before John falls over,” Rose says, reaching across the table to smack Kit, “How’d the Others filming go today?”  Thankfully, John gives a great big snort and starts talking about the snow and how sopping wet he was traipsing through it, so they’re saved anymore embarrassment.

 

“What time do you have to leave tomorrow?” Kit asks when John is sufficiently distracted, looking to Richard.

 

“About noon or so, why?”

 

“Well, I just figured, since I don’t have any scenes tomorrow, I could drive you back maybe?” Kit says, smiling, and Richard’s nose scrunches up as he smiles, as well.

 

“Little sneak,” he murmurs, leaning forward, and Kit meets him the rest of the way, just a little, chaste kiss, but it’s in _public_ , and Simon makes a gross noise at them, and Rose awh’s, and they’re both just ecstatic, bubbling over with the fact that they can do this, that they’ve made this decision to be together, wholly, and there’s no regrets.

 

When they finally finish up at dinner, they face the cold once more, waving goodbye to Rose before they make their way to Kit’s trailer.  Kit climbs up first, knocking his boots off on the way, and Richard follows, copying him, and, as he pulls the door closed behind him, he looks up, and something stirs inside him.  Kit shrugs out of his heavy jacket, hanging it up to dry, and the movement pulls up the sweatshirt he’s wearing, revealing a sliver of pale skin that Richard just wants to _touch_.

 

Kit makes his way toward the bedroom to shed his sweatshirt after he’s kicked off his boots, and Richard quickly slips out of his jacket, leaves his boots with Kit’s, and he’s yanking off his sweatshirt as he pads down the hallway.  When he gets inside the small room, Kit is just depositing his own sweatshirt next to the bed, and Richard can’t stop himself.  He curls one hand around Kit’s hip, who turns at the touch, and Richard fuses their mouths together, tongue darting through his lips and licking into his mouth, hungry and wanting.  Kit makes a small noise of surprise, but quickly catches on and reaches up a hand to slide through Richard’s curls, blunt nails scratching lightly against his scalp.  Richard lets his other hand settle over the opposite hip, and he grinds in against Kit, breaking away from his mouth to bite his lip and then nose at his jaw until he dips his head, and Kit’s knees hit the back of the bed as Richard bites down his neck, breath fast and hot against his skin.

 

Kit groans when he licks into the hollow of his throat, and the hand in his hair tightens when he sucks the skin into his mouth, bruising him, marking him.  Kit presses more firmly against Richard, hard in his tight jeans, begging for him already.  And then Richard leaves his neck, finds his mouth again as his fingers sear up underneath Kit’s shirt, digging into his stomach and sides as he pushes the material up, parts only to tug it off and throw it aside.  When he does, though, Kit settles onto the bed, spreading his legs and scraping his teeth over his bottom lip, looking up at Richard with dark eyes.

 

“ _Kit_ ,” Richard groans at the sight, carefully lowering one knee between Kit’s legs, the other slowly coming down beside him, and he catches Kit’s mouth again, already swollen and bruised, and they kiss hotly and hungrily as Kit starts to move back, taking Richard with him until Richard winds one arm around him and lifts Kit bodily off the bed, who curls his legs around his waist, breaking from the kiss in surprise.  Richard lets him back down almost instantly, though, head settling against the pillows and back falling onto the mattress as Richard rocks against him, denim-clad groins protesting their confinement.

 

“Richard?” Kit says as the redhead just stares at him, soaking him in.

 

“I love you,” Richard says softly, dipping down to kiss him slowly, and Kit hums, hands tangling in his hair again until Richard pulls back and rubs their noses together.

 

“I love you, too,” Kit promises, and Richard smiles, kisses him quickly, and then straightens away, reaching for the hem of his shirt.  Kit unwinds his legs from around him, making short work of his belt and jeans as Richard does the same, tugging off Kit’s socks as the smaller man laughs, and then they’re back together, groaning as their cocks slide against one another, hot and heavy.

 

“I wanna see you,” Richard mumbles, and Kit nods.  It’s never the same with them, never always breathing each other in, mouths at easy access.  Sometimes Kit likes to be on his stomach, likes to be fucked into the mattress, likes to scream Richard’s name; sometimes they don’t even make it to the bed, they end up against the wall, panting and desperate; sometimes Richard flips them and spreads his legs wide for Kit, keens as he lets Kit manhandle him and mark him, hands curled tight around the headboard; sometimes, they make love.

 

They’re getting nowhere now, though, and Richard breaks away from Kit’s tricky, tantalizing mouth to reach for the small bottle of lube next to the bed, but Kit curls a hand around his cock and gives it a long, slow squeeze, and Richard closes his eyes, fingers curled around the bottle, hanging there for a moment until Kit mouths at his chest, teeth scraping over one hardened nipple.  And then he’s back, on Earth again, like Kit has to pull him back sometimes, and he bucks up into Kit’s hand without thinking when he digs his thumb into the slit, and Richard moans as Kit drops his head back onto the pillow, and he pushes their foreheads together.

 

“K-Kit,” he groans, _somehow_ snapping the cap open with his thumb, but Kit doesn’t listen, just tilts his head up until he can catch Richard’s mouth with his own, and he twists his wrist, dragging his hand up tight and hot, and Richard moans into his mouth this time.  Finally, though, he gets his head and wraps his free hand around Kit’s wrist, pulling him off, but Kit just arches his body up toward him, bowing off the bed, staring into his eyes, and Richard’s dick throbs at the sight.  Gods, he wants to fuck him.

 

He fumbles with slicking his fingers, too entranced by the way Kit is moving under him, dark, _dark_ eyes never leaving Richard’s face, and he’s making these obscene noises as he traces the fingers of his left hand all over Richard, touching everything, while the other is fisted loosely over his cock, slow drags up and down until Richard kisses him, bruises his mouth and massages a finger over his entrance, loosens him up and makes him wet before he pushes two past the tight rings, and Kit cries out, his hand sealing over Richard’s bicep as he bends, head slamming back into the pillows.  Richard crooks his fingers, twisting them as Kit’s cry jumps up a notch, and his thumbnail digs into skin, his whole body tense.  Richard smirks as he dips his head because Kit’s other hand is frantic, fingers closing and opening spasmodically, fluttering across the sheets and over his own stomach, and the second his hair is in sight, Kit’s hand darts to it, fists tight and tugs hard.  Richard grunts but goes, lets Kit own his mouth as he slides in a third finger and scissors, stretches him wide and scrapes over his prostate again.

 

“Gonna fuck you so hard,” Richard growls when they break apart, and Kit falls apart, moaning and kissing him again.

 

“ _Yes_ , fuck— _yes_ ,” he says in between, knees sliding farther apart as one leg hitches up, heel settling in the small of Richard’s back, the other planted firmly on the mattress for leverage because then Richard pulls out his fingers, slicks his dick, and grabs Kit by the ass, pulls him close before he shoves in, and Kit clutches at him, hand falling from his hair to his shoulder, the other still tight around his arm.

 

He loves waking up in the morning and finding a whole new smattering of bruises, loves when he has five in a row because Kit held on almost too tight, loves that there’s a constant dip in his back the size of Kit’s heel, loves that Kit always looks just the same because they can’t stop touching each other, can’t stop marking and claiming.  There’s already a fading one on the left side of Kit’s collarbone now, though, and so he darts to the right, and Kit shouts when he licks and then bites, mouth sealing over the bone.  His short fingernails dig into Richard’s shoulder as the room is filled with their sounds, breaths fast and harsh, Richard’s hips slapping loud against Kit’s ass, a blush creeping over the smooth, pale skin, the creak of the bed beneath them.

 

Richard drops to his elbows either side of Kit’s head, presses his forehead against Kit’s, and Kit brings them closer, pushes off the bed with his left foot, his right digging into Richard’s back, and he groans, lifting his head to lick his way into Kit’s mouth, needing to taste him, to feel him.  Something comes over him, though, and he pushes away from Kit to loom over him, knees spread as he takes Kit’s hips, who stares at him with hungry eyes, his body a curve as his ass fits into Richard’s lap.  He wants to see him, and Kit lavishes in the attention Richard gives him, always, loves to be stared at and lusted over.

 

He curls one hand over his cock, eyes fluttering closed for a second, and the other fists in one of the pillows, and for the briefest moment, he’s calm, gone in a way Richard usually is, until Richard shifts, lifts Kit higher, and Kit screams, bowing off the bed and reaching for Richard without even thinking.  Richard takes his hand, curls their fingers together and squeezes tight as he feels his stomach tighten, knows he’s close.

 

“Ri-Richard,” Kit pants, back curling as he presses impossibly closer, “Fuck, Richard— _gods_.”  Richard knows it’s coming before it even happens, can see it in the way Kit digs their hands into the mattress and tilts his head back, jaw unhinging in a low moan, thighs tight and hand quick over his cock, fingers fisted tight as Richard hits that spot over and over, thrusting shallowly, his rhythm stuttering out of place as Kit shouts and comes, thick ropes across his stomach, his leg tightening around Richard, and that’s all it takes.  Richard gasps and shakes, fucking hard into Kit’s body as he comes undone, spilling into his ass, his dick throbbing.  He’s blissfully unaware of everything as he hangs his head back and stills slowly, chest heaving.  When he comes back, Kit is boneless against the mattress, his fingers loose around Richard’s, but he’s smiling, his brown eyes closed and his breathing evened out.  Richard eases out, and Kit lets a small groan slip out, his body tightening for a moment before Richard leans over and kisses him lightly.  When he pulls back, Kit is looking at him, and he smiles back, kisses him again.  “That was interesting,” he says, words slurring together.

 

“Yeah?” Richard says, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“Went all macho man on me,” he mumbles, tilting his head up to kiss Richard, “It was hot.”  Richard blushes, and Kit laughs.  “Will you fall asleep if I take a shower?” he asks as Richard leans back again.

 

“No, though I might take one after you.”

 

“Sounds good to me,” Kit says, and then he stretches, legs still spread around Richard.  He leaves after a moment, padding naked through the trailer and to the other end where the shower is, and Richard lays back, exhaling a slow breath and just relaxing until someone knocks on the door, and he frowns, looking to the clock.  It’s still early, only about eight o’clock, and he sighs, pushing off the bed and hunting down a pair of jeans.  He throws a shirt over his head, leaving it hanging around his neck as he leaves the bedroom, zipping and buttoning his jeans, and he opens the door as he’s sticking his arms through the t-shirt.

 

“Oh,” John says, blushing, “Uh—bad time?”

 

“No, it’s fine, come on in out of the cold.”  John clambers up, closing the door behind him as Richard goes to make tea, yawning.  “What’s up, John?”

 

“Oh, just—news for Kit.  How are you?”

 

“Tired.  Going back to Croatia tomorrow.  Tea?”

 

“Uh, sure.  That herbal shit?”

 

Richard laughs as John makes a face.  “Yeah, sorry.  He got it from me.”  John chats with him until Kit comes out of the shower, dressed only in a towel, and Richard has to try his hardest not to stare so as not to make John uncomfortable.  He excuses himself once Kit is dressed and entertaining John, and then he’s heading in the shower, and he just stands there for a few minutes once he’s inside, letting the hot water beat over him.

 

He’s not looking forward to going back to Croatia.  He misses the cast and acting so much, but being so far away from Kit is hard, and he hates that their schedules are so different and weird that they rarely get to see each other even on the computer or hear each other’s voices over the phone.  Shooting ends soon, though, and he can’t wait to get back into the flat and be able to wake up to him every morning.

 

John is gone when he gets out of the shower, though Kit is on his laptop, going through his emails.  Richard drops a kiss to the back of his neck before he continues on to the bedroom, calling over his shoulder, “What news did John have?”

 

“Just interviews and red carpet shit.  You’ll probably get a schedule when you get back.”  Richard can hear his laptop click shut, and he’s just pulling on a pair of briefs when Kit comes in and over, kissing him softly.  “Wanna go to bed?  We can act like old men and read books and talk about politics.”

 

“You just want an excuse to read,” Richard accuses, though he’s smiling.  He knows it calms him down, though, helps him sleep, and so they settle next to each other, Richard stealing Kit’s laptop to check his email while Kit opens his latest book, and, when Richard sneaks a peek up, he has to do a double take.  “ _What_ are you reading?” he says, and Kit blinks at him from behind his glasses.  He turns the book so the cover flashes, but Richard shakes his head.  “That looks like guilty pleasure fantasy.”

 

Kit frowns, turning the first _Dragonlance_ back toward him, _Dragons of Autumn Twilight_ , though he smiles when Richard snorts and buries his face between Kit’s shoulder and jaw.  “You’re so lame,” he mumbles against his skin.

 

“You love it,” Kit says back, leaning his head against Richard’s briefly before they part again.

 

It’s much later, when they’re lying together under the layers of blankets, and, surprisingly, Richard is on his back, Kit’s head on his shoulder, tracing patterns on his chest.  They don’t usually lie like this, but Richard had gotten in bed first, started to wait for Kit, but then Kit had shoved him onto his back and curled against him.  It’s much later when Richard sighs into Kit’s curls and says, “I want a boat.”

 

Kit stirs, humming as he does.  “A boat?” he repeats sleepily, yawning after.

 

Richard keeps massaging his fingers through Kit’s hair as he talks, “Yeah, like I wanna sail somewhere.  See the world.”

 

“Do you even know how to sail?”

 

“Mhm.  My dad taught me, when I was younger.”

 

“So, then we’ll get a boat and sail to Portugal.”

 

“Portugal?”

 

“I wanna go on vacation, on a beach.”

 

“Kit, I’m serious,” Richard says, taking his hand out and shifting, getting comfortable for his last night.

 

Kit, however, has other plans, and Richard quirks an eyebrow as he braces one hand against Richard’s chest and pushes up, one knee smacking Richard’s thigh before he settles on either side of him, eyes locking on his.  “So am I,” he says, both hands flattened over Richard’s chest, just pressing against him, “After the premiere and all the stupid interviews we’ll have to do, we’ll take a break, and we’ll go to Portugal.  Or Spain,” he adds, shrugging.

 

“What about your movie?”

 

“Well, we won’t be filming forever, and I don’t exactly have a starring role.”

 

“And your other movie?  The one with Ben?”

 

“Stop being so difficult,” he whines, leaning forward and kissing him forcefully.  When he straightens again, he lets his hands drift downward, and he lifts onto his knees so that he can tug Richard’s briefs down.

 

“Kit—” he starts to protest, but Kit puts a finger over his mouth, so Richard does the mature thing and doesn’t slip his tongue out to curl around Kit’s finger and pull it between his lips, but he actually really does because Kit’s fingers have always been a fascination for him, and the way Kit’s eyes get a little wider and a little darker when his mouth seals over the last knuckle, tongue dragging along the digit, is totally worth it.

 

Kit struggles out of his boxers one-handed as he continues to talk, “We’ll plan for August, okay?  Or—end of July, rather.  I should be totally done by then, and we’ll set sail end of July, and we’ll get there sometime in August, and we’ll go on vacation.  How does that sound?”  Richard hums around his finger, and Kit’s breath hitches a little as he stares at him.  Finally, though, Richard releases his finger only to drag another in, and Kit sighs and bites his lip.

 

When he’s done, Richard smirks and licks his lips slowly.  “That sounds reasonable,” he says, and then it’s game over.  Kit launches forward, catching his mouth in a hot, messy kiss that ends with them drifting off into a content sleep, bodies boneless from sex, and limbs wound around one another.

 

\--

 

_April 1, 2012._

Kit wakes up to an empty bed and the Pogues in the background.  He stretches from where he’s lying on his stomach, smiling when he hears Richard singing along.  It’s still early, ten o’clock, but they have to be in London for the premiere at two o’clock for the red carpet and interviews.  He stops by the bathroom to brush his teeth and piss before he heads downstairs to find Richard making a big lunch.  “Mm, smells good,” he says as he curls his arms around Richard and noses at his curls, “How’d you sleep?”

 

“Like an Other.  You?”

 

“An Other,” Kit snorts, “I’m going to use that from now on.  Excited for today?” he asks as he pulls away and goes to make coffee.

 

“Nervous mostly, but yeah.”  And they don’t talk about _them_ because they already have, but it’s on both of their minds.

 

They eat lunch amongst light chatter, shower together afterward and end up plastered together, Richard buried in Kit, back to chest, clawing at each other as they chase the heat in their bellies, and they’re left getting ready to the beat of Snow Patrol.

 

It’s an hour drive to the premiere, and there are _hundreds_ of people.  Kit leaves his keys with one of the valets as Richard gets out, and then it happens just as planned.  Richard lingers, one hand tucked away in his pocket and the other hanging by his side, trembling lightly.  When Kit comes around the front of the car, cameras flashing everywhere, Richard flexes his hand, Kit twines their fingers together, and the noise level skyrockets.  And then it starts.

 

They stop a few feet down the carpet, near where Alfie is laughing over remarks about his impending betrayal, and they’re snatched up by a young woman.  “Looks like even the Wall can’t keep our handsome brothers apart,” she says, eyes flicking down to their enjoined hands, “Is this a recent development?”

 

“Not really,” Kit takes the reins, to which Richard is grateful, “Richard and I have been together for just over a year, figured it was time to stop being so quiet.”  And that’s how it goes, switching on who responds, keeping it low key with light touches and held hands, nothing too spicy.  All in all, it’s a pretty tame event, though the after party is something else entirely.

 

They can finally open up because they’re comfortable with their friends, and they end up hanging out with Alfie, Joe Dempsie, Nikolaj, Peter, and John until Simon and Tom Wlaschiha find them, arms slung around each other and telling crazy tales.  All in all, it turns out to be a hilarious night, full of laughter and Richard becoming incomprehensible, his English slowly slipping away, full of stories, behind the scenes goofs and pranks, and a drinking contest between Nikolaj and Peter until, somehow, their group straggles its way back to the flat, and they just hang out, smoke, and drink.  Simon, Tom, John, and Peter all leave around one thirty, Nikolaj manages until three, and Joe falls asleep with his head in Alfie’s lap, who just grunts at Kit and Richard and passes out.

 

In the morning, Richard surfaces around eleven, blinking at the open curtains and streaming sunlight before he turns to find Kit’s side empty, but then he hears him down the hall, and he frowns.  He’s hung over, sure, but he certainly doesn’t feel the need to throw up, and Kit shouldn’t either.  Sighing, Richard pushes out of bed and is about to pad out naked when he remembers, and he turns back into the room, finding a pair of Kit’s grey sweats in one of the drawers.  When he goes to check the bathroom, shirtless, it’s not Kit, but Alfie, and he nods, taking the stairs.  Joe is just waking up on the couch, and he waves when he sees Richard, but Kit’s not downstairs either.  When he checks the Tardis, his keys are there, and he frowns, opening the door.  Kit is sitting at the bottom of the stairs on the phone, smoking.

 

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he hears him say, and he starts to close the door until, “No, you can’t fucking meet him.  I don’t want you anywhere near my flat, okay?  That shit last night was _not_ cool, Ben.”  He wants to stay and eavesdrop, but he knows Kit will talk to him later, and so he shuts the door and heads into the kitchen.

 

“Fuckin’ feel like I’m on the _Skins_ set again,” Joe grumbles before he falls onto the floor, and Richard laughs at him softly.

 

“Coffee?” he asks, and Joe grunts from the floor.  He’s only talked to Joe outside of shooting, when they’re all just hanging out, mostly because he likes to visit Maisie and Sophie every once in a while, and Maisie’s taken a liking to Joe, which he knows is entirely not weird because Maisie treats Joe like she treats Richard, and Joe does the exact same.  They’re like siblings, and Richard’s happy she’s found someone since Kit is off in Iceland now.

 

“Sorry about crashing here, mate,” Joe says as he comes over, and Richard shakes his head.

 

“It’s fine.  You can stay if you want; Kit will be in to make breakfast in a bit.”

 

“Yeah, sure.  Alfie!” he shouts when Alfie comes down, who flips him off.

 

“Fucker,” he groans, rubbing his eyes.

 

Richard makes tea and coffee, and Kit returns just as he’s putting one of the stovetop burners on to make eggs.  “Hey,” he says when he comes into the kitchen, dropping a kiss on Richard’s shoulder before he opens the fridge to find different vegetables and eggs.

 

“Everything okay?”

 

“Ben called last night.  Fucking plastered out of his mind.  Left a message,” he adds when Richard looks confused.

 

“And now?”

 

“It’s fine, I’ll tell you about it later, yeah?”

 

“Yeah, okay.”  After that, it’s smooth sailing, Joe and Alfie hanging around for a few hours before they split, and then it’s just Kit and Richard, dressing and showering before they go out to do errands, and, somewhere between arguing over cereal and laughing at Kit when he holds up light blue jeans, Richard realizes how unbelievably happy he is.

 

\--

 

_April 9, 2012._

For no other reason than the world sucks, their plane is at a disgusting time.  When the alarm goes off, Kit actually throws it off the bedside table, and Richard laughs and kisses his shoulder after he’s rolled over.  They doze for another fifteen minutes before Richard finally coaxes Kit awake, and they dress in silence, looking nice because, when they arrive in Rio, it’ll actually be a decent time.  They’re out of the house by three thirty, at the airport in an hour, the flight leaves at five, and then they’re out cold for the next six hours.  They spend the last five eating, reading, and talking, and they’re in Rio before long with a surprisingly camera-free trip to their hotel.  It’s on the sixth floor, and Kit winds his arms around Richard and buries his face in his chest in the elevator while Richard just lets his head drop back, one hand rubbing slowly up and down Kit’s back.

 

“Oh my gosh,” they hear as the doors close on the fourth floor, and Richard stops his hand, lets it settle in the small of Kit’s back.  “Is that them?” one of the two girls whispers, and Richard smiles lightly.  They have a hushed argument that he can feel Kit chuckling silently about, and then the elevator dings, and Richard pats Kit until he straightens.

 

“Come on,” he says, grabbing his suitcase.  Kit follows him out, and so do the two girls.  They apparently have a room a few doors down, but they stare as Richard unlocks their room and pushes inside, Kit following him.  Richard whistles when he gets inside, and Kit laughs, kicking the door shut behind him.  “This is nice,” Richard says, and Kit just keeps on laughing.

 

The walls are a light blue, the curtains green, and there’s two huge windows that take up nearly all of the wall, one across from the door, and one across from the beds, the one across the beds opening onto a wide balcony.  There are two huge beds, two dressers, and tons of walking space, and Richard leaves his suitcase and backpack near the bed to go explore the balcony.  Kit, of course, checks out the bathroom, shouting details as he practically sings about the size of the shower and the fun they’re going to have.  Richard just laughs at him as he leans against the railing and looks out at the huge city and miles of beach.

 

“We have the rest of the day free,” Kit says as he steps out next to him, “Wanna get changed and go to dinner?  We can even watch the sunset from the beach.”

 

“Look at you, turning into a sap,” Richard teases, and Kit just bites his shoulder and snuggles against him.  Kit wears his stupid new jeans, the blue ones, with a green and blue plaid button-up that keeps distracting Richard, his collarbones jutting out above the dip when he doesn’t button the top three, and so Richard plays right along and wears the tight, tan pants that Kit has groaned over and ripped off him on more than one occasion, topping it with a loose fitting blue vneck that matches his eyes.  He can see it in Kit’s eyes when he pauses in lacing up his Docs, watching Richard walk over to the dresser to find a black cardigan, and he laughs when he turns.

 

“That’s not fair,” Kit says, still looking at him.

 

“Then button your shirt.”

 

“No,” he says defiantly, straightening, and Richard almost smacks him when he sucks in a breath and holds it.

 

Instead, he comes over, curling a hand on either arm of the chair he’s sitting in and leans in, tongue darting out to taste Kit, licking over the left side.  “When we get back,” he begins, following the bone up to his shoulder, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard into the mattress,” he promises, laying a wet kiss over his shoulder before he continues, “I’m gonna fuck you until you scream for me.  I—” he pauses to kiss up Kit’s neck, bite his jaw, and peck the corner of his mouth, “—am going to bury my cock inside you and listen to you moan.”  Kit’s already dark eyes are nearly black when he meets his gaze, and Richard makes a show of licking over his bottom lip, pulling it in and letting it go with a slow drag of his teeth.  He waits a beat, and then Kit surges forward, biting at Richard’s mouth before he steals him for a kiss, and Richard is helpless, Kit’s mouth always one of his weaknesses, and he lets Kit attack him until he finds himself straddling the smaller man, knees slid on either side of him, his cock heavy and aching in his pants.  He doesn’t want this yet, though; he wants to wait, wants to make Kit squirm, but then Kit’s hand curls over him, cups him through his pants, and squeezes, breath coming fast and hot against Richard’s mouth.  “Please,” he whispers, “Right here.  Please.  Then we’ll go to dinner.”

 

“Then you won’t want it later,” Richard murmurs, biting along Kit’s jaw and kissing down his neck until he can nip at his shoulder and exposed chest.  He sighs as he hears his belt come undone, and then the zipper is tugged down and the button snapped open, and the freedom is so good.  Kit shoves his pants and briefs down just enough that Richard’s dick springs free, already leaking, and he hums as Kit curls one hand around it and tugs up, thumb digging into the bundle of nerves just beneath the crown, his other hand working furiously at his own pants.

 

“Trust me,” he pants, “I’ll want it.  Let me.  Please.”

 

“Okay,” Richard breaks, fusing their mouths together again, and Kit smacks his hand when he starts to move it.  He settles it back onto the arm as Kit yanks up his shirt, bunched under his arms, spits into his hand, and he fists both cocks in one hand, whining and shifting beneath Richard at the contact, muscles in his arms flexing and tightening.

 

Kit doesn’t fool around.  Once he’s got a good grip, his other hand curling around one of Richard’s wrists, and then he twists up, smoothes down, and Richard loses time after that, groaning into Kit’s neck as he bites and licks, Kit’s hand flying over them, smearing precome and spit until Richard is aching and rutting up into Kit’s hand, panting.  Kit is more quiet than usual, looking for Richard’s mouth where he would normally drop his head back and moan, but Richard just lets him take and take until he can feel his orgasm pooling in his belly, and Kit squeezes the base of his cock at his gasp.

 

“ _Kit_ ,” he whines, thighs trembling, “Kit, _please_.”

 

“Do you trust me?” Kit asks, his eyes surprisingly clear.  Richard nods, panting, brow furrowed.  “Lean back,” he says, nodding toward the dresser, and Richard frowns.  Kit flicks his gaze to the dresser again and uncurls his hand around Richard’s wrist to brace it against his back, and then he licks his lips, and Richard almost falls apart.  He leans back, rising up on his knees as he does, and he holds his breath as his hand wraps around the edge of the dresser, gripping tight, but then Kit’s mouth seals around his cock, and it wouldn’t matter where he was because _that_ is the greatest thing he’s ever had.  He loves Kit’s mouth, loves when he drops to his knees in the shower and sucks him down, swallows him until Richard is swearing and biting his fist, loves when he wakes up because Kit has crawled under the covers and is staring up at him under dark lashes, pink mouth stretched wide, hates that, right now, Kit still has his hand squeezed around the base, his mouth merciless at the head, but he knows exactly what Kit is doing because he’s done it to him a hundred different times, has shaken him apart until he’s screaming and sobbing and _begging_.  And there’s nothing more that Kit loves than hearing Richard’s slurred Scottish accent streaming profanity and pleads.

 

He keeps his hand against Richard’s back, keeps him steady, and Richard is a mess when Kit finally releases his cock and swallows him down.  He moans around Richard, drags his lips and tongue back up to suck hard at the head, and Richard cries out, hips jerking upward, whole body locking up, and Kit just seals his mouth tight and slides his tongue over the swollen head, just like Richard likes, until his fingers are white against the dresser and he’s shaking, screaming as he comes hard and fast, filling Kit’s mouth.  It’s rare Kit can get him so unwound, and the fucker smirks when he finally pulls off and licks at the corner of his mouth.  Richard sags a little, arm so heavy, and he just wants to be vertical again.  Kit winds both arms around him and pulls him up, but that’s when Richard feels him, hot and leaking, curled up against his stomach.  Kit’s face is flushed, his eyes dark and hungry, and Richard kisses him, tastes himself there, and he loves it.

 

When he slides off the chair and drops to his knees, Kit starts to wave him away, but Richard flicks his hand and noses at his thigh, tongue slipping out, and that’s all it takes to silence Kit.  He’s already so close, and it only takes a few slides of his mouth, tongue pressing in at all the right places before Kit is coming undone, one hand fisted tightly in Richard’s curls.

 

“See,” Kit says when he’s caught his breath, “We only wasted twenty minutes.”  Richard laughs loudly at this, falling back on his heels, and Kit smiles brightly.  After they’ve brushed their teeth and fixed their clothes, they head out again, loose and laughing, holding hands and kissing in the elevator.

 

Dinner is Thai food near the beach where some weird techno song is making the patrons groove and sway, and they get a table out of the way, ignoring the few stares they receive and so enamored with each other.  They take to the beach afterward, shoes and socks toed off, bare feet drifting through the sand, and they stand at the water’s edge for a while, silent and just enjoying the nearness of the other.

 

When they get back to the room, it’s after Richard pins Kit into the corner of the elevator and twists his hand into his tight jeans and palms him until he’s hard and moaning.  And, when Richard disappears into the bathroom, he comes out to Kit with his legs spread wide, groaning as he fucks down onto his own hand, and he practically trips over his pants in his haste to get inside him.  Kit ends up on his knees, arms stretched forward so he can tighten his hands around the headboard, and Richard fucks him slow and hard, mouth dancing over his spine because it rips Kit apart, the feel of Richard’s teeth and tongue over his back, and there’s an hour of catching breath and sometimes kissing before Kit is rolling Richard onto his back and stroking him until he’s writhing before he rides him, head thrown back and ass slapping down into Richard’s lap.  Kit is panting and shaking when they finish the second time, and he stays on top of Richard for a long few minutes while Richard rubs his back, whispering to him.  Just as they’re fading away two hours later, Richard shifts, Kit’s breath hitches, and Richard’s mouth seals over his cock, sucks him down until Kit is leaking, and then he kisses up his body and bruises his mouth only to ask if they can make love, and Kit just slides his knees up either side of Richard and pulls him in for another kiss.  The night drifts past in warmth and boneless bodies until Kit is coaxed out of sleep by the bright morning sun filling their room and Richard’s slow fingers, filling him and stretching him.  His favorite sex in the world is morning sex, and Richard knows him so well, knows that as he mouths down Kit’s back, licks into the darker taste of his ass, and seals his mouth over his entrance, tongue pushing in, he knows that Kit is going to be all smiles and lingering touches today.  He finishes Kit this way, tongue thrusting and flexing, his jaw aching when Kit finally subconsciously stifles a moan in his pillow, and then Richard straightens on his knees, and Kit opens his eyes to stare at Richard, encourages him with a soft chant of _yeah, come on, Richard, fuck yes, come on me_ , and it’s Kit’s dirty mouth that does him in, makes his hand stutter over his cock as he comes with a shout, covering Kit’s ass and the dip of his back.  And Kit just smirks and bites his lip, the fucker.

 

He gives Kit a reprieve in the shower, though that doesn’t mean Kit doesn’t try to get him riled, and he’s left making out with him, pressed against the shower wall, pulling away to bite his jaw and glare at him, and Kit laughs, but stops.  When they finally get out and get dressed, the interviewers are due upstairs in a half hour, and Kit quirks an eyebrow and leans against the door, hips arched up.  “No,” Richard says, gaze flicking to the clock.

 

“What, scared of a little danger?” Kit snaps back, grinning, “Come on, come over here, spread those pretty legs of yours, and let me fuck you against the door, yeah?”  Richard doesn’t know how to say no, not when Kit is biting his lip like that and slowly moving his hips.

 

They almost get caught.  Richard chokes back his laughter as Kit swears and yanks on his bright red jeans.  Richard cleans up in the bathroom as quick as he can, and he’s just exiting, finishing the buttons on his grey shirt as Kit opens the door and flashes a wide smile.  His black shirt is skewed, though, and Richard fixes it when no one is looking, to which Kit pecks him on the mouth, and then they’re out in the balcony to do photos before they start with the first of many interviews.

 

And, for the next few days, it’s a routine of enough sex that Kit walks funny at the airport, interviews, another free day spent at the beach learning how to surf and sun-bathing, and so much good food.  It’s like a little mini vacation, and Kit can’t help but think of Richard’s boat and sailing to Portugal, and he wants it so much more now.

 

\--

 

_June 2, 2012._

“Richard.”

 

Kit sighs when Richard just groans and turns away from him, and so he just shakes his shoulder harder, says his name a little louder, “ _Richard_.”

 

“Fuck, _fine_ ,” Richard growls, and then Kit is gone, putting the phone back to his ear.  “What’s going on?” he asks blearily, yawning and frowning when Kit isn’t in front of him like he thought.

 

By the dresser, Kit is silent, listening to the woman on the phone, “He’s in the ICU right now, though he might need to be brought into surgery.  You’re not his first contact, but he was adamant that we call you.”

 

“Did you call Jack first?  His brother,” he clarifies as he struggles into a pair of jeans.

 

“Yes, he’s on his way.”

 

“He’s conscious, though?  Is that good or bad?”

 

“Good, for now.  He’s stable at the moment, but his injuries are very serious.”

 

“Okay, thank you.  Let him know I’m coming, yeah?  Thank you,” he says again before he hangs up, drops his phone onto the dresser, and yanks a t-shirt over his head.  “Ben’s in the hospital,” he says to Richard once he’s gotten the shirt on, “He was in a head-on collision.  I’m gonna go, okay?”  He comes over to the bed and leans down to kiss Richard, his glasses slipping down his nose as he does.  “I just wanted to let you know before I left.”

 

“Do you want me to come?” Richard asks, already getting out of bed, but Kit shakes his head.

 

“No, it’s fine.  Go back to sleep.  I can drive, it’s okay.  I’ll get some coffee, stop pouting like that.”  He smiles, but it’s weak, and he kisses Richard forcefully before stepping away again, seeking out his leather jacket and shoes.

 

“Be careful,” Richard says as he yanks his boots on, leaves them unlaced, and then grabs his phone.  Richard stretches until his fingers curl around _Dragonlance: Dragons of Spring Dawning_ , and Kit takes it on his way by.

 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Kit promises, and then he’s gone.  He jogs down the stairs, grabs his cigarettes from the kitchen counter, his keys from the Tardis, and then he’s outside in the warm night air, sliding into the driver’s seat, and speeding away.  He clicks on the radio because his eyes are tired and dry behind his glasses, and he flips through the stations until he settles on something hard and angry because this is so fucked up, and he’s so mad at Ben for making him care this much.  It’s been okay, filming, they’ve been civil, and they’ve even gone out together a couple times, but they’re nowhere near as close as they used to be, and now this.

 

He runs two red lights and a stop sign, but there are apparently no cops out at four in the morning because he makes good time getting to the hospital, and, when he pulls in, Jack is getting out a few cars over.  “Jack!” Kit calls as he closes his door, book and phone in one hand.

 

“Kit?” Jack Barnes says in confusion, waiting as Kit jogs over, “What are you doing here?”

 

“They called.  I guess Ben was _adamant I was here_.”

 

“Sorry, mate.”

 

“It’s fine.  Shall we?”

 

“Yeah, of course.  How’ve you been?  Haven’t seen you in a few weeks.”

 

“Yeah, I’ve been good.  Keeping busy.  Richard and I are taking a vacation soon.”

 

“Oh yeah?  Where’re you planning?”

  
“Portugal.  Gonna sail there, apparently.”

 

“Good for you, Kit,” Jack says, and he means it, “I’m glad you’re happy.”

 

They’re not prepared for what they find as Jack vouches for Kit, claiming him as his brother at the receptionist desk, and they head back to the ICU where Ben is unconscious, his heart rate too slow, his body a mangled mess, and a tube through his nose and a mask over his mouth helping him breathe.  “What happened?” Jack asks the attending nurse who is currently checking Ben’s vitals, and all the color has drained from the older man’s face as he stares at his lifeless brother.

 

“He was in the back of a taxi, though he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.  He went through the front windshield.”

 

“Shit,” Jack says, and Kit bites his lip, tasting bile in his throat.  “So, uh—what’s wrong?”

 

“Well, he’s got a lot of internal bleeding, a punctured lung, a few broken and fractured bones, and surface wounds beyond that.  We’ll need to take him into surgery.”

 

“Okay.  Do you need—do you need anything from me?”

 

“Mr. Barnes,” the nurse says, sighing, “Your brother is going to be fine, but he’s in very bad shape right now.  However, he did say, before he lost consciousness, that he wanted you to be his medical proxy, so I just need you to sign a few forms.”

 

“Alright.  Kit, I’ll—I’ll meet you in the waiting room, yeah?”  Kit just nods and follows them out, seeking out the waiting room and taking a seat where he brings his knees up to his chest and buries his head between them, trying to steady his breathing.  Jack finds him like this fifteen minutes later, and he rubs a hand over Kit’s back because he gets it, he knows exactly what Kit is thinking, because this is so fucked up, Ben in the hospital, his two closest friends still pissed at him, and they know that it’s going to be okay, but they also know that Ben is going to make them feel guilty, and they’re going to buy right into it because it’s _Ben_.

 

When Kit straightens, Jack gives him a little nudge.  He looks over at him, and Jack sighs.  “Bathroom’s over there.  Go,” he says, nudging him again.  Kit just nods and leaves his book and phone behind, going for the sinks first to splash water on his face, and he tries closing his eyes and just leaning against the sink, but all he can see is Ben’s blood-smeared face, and he barely makes it to the toilet before he’s vomiting.  When he finishes, he’s shaking, and he feels like he’s going to pass out, but he makes himself flush and wash his face, makes his feet walk back out to the waiting room where Jack isn’t anymore because he needs to pace, and Kit curls up in his seat and tries to read.

 

Ben goes into critical condition during surgery, and Kit retreats to the bathroom to cry with his fist in his mouth to muffle the sobs that hurt so bad.  He’s sick again until he hears the door open, and Jack knocks on the stall door until Kit unlocks it and lets Jack take care of him because he knows that Jack just needs distraction.

 

For two long, agonizing minutes, Ben’s heart stops.

 

Jack shouts his frustration until Kit shoves him outside, and he lets Jack take it out on him until Jack collapses and just sobs.  From there, it’s touch and go for about two hours until they stabilize him, and he’s back in a bed in the ICU, being cared for.  It’s seven o’clock when Jack sighs and stands up from his chair, and he returns with two cups of coffee, handing one over to Kit, who thanks him softly.  Jack stares at Ben for a long time before he leaves again, and Kit is left alone in the room with his best friend, curled up in one of the crappy chairs.  He watches Ben’s chest rise and fall for a few minutes before he says, “I’m sorry.  I should have forgiven you ages ago.”

 

An hour later, Ben groans and his eyes blink open, and Jack and Kit are at his side instantly while the attending nurse looks everything over.  “Hey, kiddo,” Jack says when Ben looks up at him, “How are you feeling?”

 

“Jack?” Ben says, smiling softly.  They removed the mask a while after surgery, and so he’s breathing freely now.  His gaze flicks to Kit next, and he visibly relaxes.  “You’re here,” he says, and Kit nods, not trusting his voice, but then Ben is breaking, tears spilling out of his eyes, “Kit, I’m so sorry,” he cries, “I’m so—s-s-sorry.  I was such a dick to you.  I’m s-sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Kit says, looking down as Ben’s hand lifts a little.  He reaches forward, taking it.  “It’s okay.  Everything’s okay.  Just get better, you hear?”

 

Ben nods weakly.  “Yeah.  Yeah, okay,” he sighs, closing his eyes.  “I’m sorry, Kit.  I just love you.  I fucked up.”

 

“Stop it,” Kit says, squeezing his hand, “It’s okay.  I forgive you.  I should have forgiven you ages ago,” he repeats, “You’re my best friend, Ben.  You always will be, even if you’re an idiot.”

 

Ben laughs, opening his eyes again, and he smiles at Kit before looking back to his brother.  Kit releases his hand and steps back, lets Jack take his place, who hugs him tightly before turning back to Ben.  “Call me, okay?” Kit says before Jack releases him.  He leaves because he can’t be here anymore, and he sits in his car for a few moments, exhausted, before he sticks his key in the ignition and heads home.

 

When he pulls up in front of the flat, the kitchen window is wide open, and he can see Richard through it, singing along to whatever’s playing as he washes dishes even though it’s Kit’s week.  When he unlocks the front door, some rock song is playing, and it makes him smile immediately, especially as he drops his keys in the Tardis and comes around the corner to Richard’s voice and swaying hips because he’s just so happy he has him.  Something colorful catches his eye, and he looks over to find a banana and strawberry crêpe on the counter with a bowl of kiwi next to it, a tall glass of orange juice, and a heart drawn in Nutella on the breakfast pastry.  Sometimes, he doesn’t know how he got so lucky.

 

“Hey,” he says, and Richard jumps, turning, his arms covered in soap up to his elbows.

 

“Hey!” he exclaims, reaching for the dish rag, but Kit shakes his head, going over and kissing him.

 

“Don’t, it’s fine.”

 

“I made you breakfast,” Richard says, nodding over to the counter, “I wasn’t sure when you’d be back, but I only just made it, like, ten minutes ago.”

 

“Thank you,” Kit murmurs, kissing him again.

 

“How’s Ben?” he asks as he turns back to the sink.

 

“Better now.  It was—it was rough for a while.”  Despite his earlier upset stomach, it growls hungrily at the delicious looking meal, and he shrugs out of his jacket before sitting and digging in.

 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Richard asks.

 

“Not really.  Jack’s gonna call me when they’re sure he’s in the clear.  It was a head on collision.  He went through the front windshield.”

 

“Shit.  I’m sorry, sweetie.”  Kit smiles at the pet name, and Richard’s ears blush red, and Kit’s sure his cheeks are, as well.  He cleans off his arms a moment later, and Kit watches him pour a mug of steaming water before opening one of the cabinets to retrieve his favorite apple chamomile.  “For your stomach,” Richard says as he turns, steeping the bag as he pulls a stool from underneath the island and sits, and it doesn’t even matter how he knows because he knows.  Kit thanks him with a smile, and Richard steals a sip from his orange juice when he’s done with the tea.  “So, I did some—summer cleaning, I guess, while you were gone,” he says as he puts the glass back down, “Also, booked our place in Portugal.”

 

“I’m intrigued.”

 

“It’s going to be a surprise.”

 

“Oh, come on,” Kit whines, but he’s grinning.

 

“Nope, a surprise.  Would you be up for boat shopping today?  I have somewhere in mind.”

 

“Yeah, we can do that.  Gonna give me a hint?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“You’re such a butt.”

 

“I don’t want to ruin it!  It’s a very cool surprise,” Richard says, lifting his head up, and Kit just snorts and goes back to his crêpe.  An hour later, though, Richard’s parking in some residential dock, and he gets out, waving for Kit to follow him.  He takes Kit’s hand before they head off toward where four boats are docked, but Richard angles them toward the last, a long cruising yacht, painted blue and green, its sails down, and Kit starts to talk, but Richard makes a noise and shakes his head.

 

“Richard, what are you—” he starts anyway when Richard lets go of his hand and steps aboard.

 

“Shut up, and come on,” Richard sighs, holding out his hand.  Kit frowns, but takes his hand anyway and lets Richard help him up.  When he’s steady, Richard makes his way across the boat, stepping up onto a rise and then down again until he ducks, and his head disappears.  He shouts something, but Kit can’t make it out.  He walks a few feet forward, still frowning, until Richard straightens again, laughing, and, a moment later, a man steps out from where Richard’s head had disappeared, and Kit understands.

 

“Dickhead,” he mutters under his breath as Richard looks over at him, smirking.

 

The man has the same head of red curls that Richard does, though it’s cut much shorter, and he sports green eyes and freckles.  “Kit!” Richard calls, waving him over, and he carefully makes his way toward them.  “This is my dad, Rory,” he introduces, “Dad, Kit.”

 

“We’ve heard a lot about you, Kit, my wife and I,” Rory says, shaking hands with Kit, “Richard tells me you two want to sail to Portugal.  Whereabouts were you thinking?”

 

“Lagos,” Richard answers, though he doesn’t continue when a woman’s voice calls Rory’s name, and his father sighs.

 

“That’s Marie,” he says, nodding toward the building next to the boats, “I’ve got to get in to her, she’s been yelling for me for the last fifteen minutes.  I’ll be back in a bit.”

 

As Rory leaves, Kit turns to Richard, shaking his head.  “You’re an ass,” he says, and Richard just laughs loudly and takes his hand again, pulling him inside the cabin below.

 

“My dad’s been sailing all his life,” Richard says as they erupt into a bright and spacious saloon, “His dad before him, too, and so on.  It’s harder with his job at the station, but he’s kept it up, and ehm—well, when I said he’d taught me how to sail, ehm—I meant it.  I’ve been sailing since I was little.  I haven’t in a couple years, but I think I can make it to Lagos, which, by the way, is about a week by sea.”  Kit just nods, looking around.  There’s a little cooking area to the right, a three-quarter square sofa to the left, and a door at the back that Richard leads him through, revealing a wide bedroom with a Queen, a huge window on the ceiling, and a variety of drawers along the left wall along with a flatscreen tucked snuggly away.

 

“Richard,” Kit says, turning to him, “This is amazing.”

 

“You like it?  Really?”

 

“I can’t wait,” Kit promises, pulling him closer and kissing him.  “Thank you,” he murmurs against his mouth, and Richard just laughs softly and kisses him again.

 

\--

 

_July 24, 2012._

Kit wakes up because Richard just fucking _punched_ him.

 

It’s like being shocked, and Kit shouts, clawing up out of the depths of sleep and jumping backward, but his left arm is still underneath Richard, and he groans when he nearly overextends it, falling back onto his side.  Richard’s fist swings wildly again, so Kit deflects it and then smacks Richard _hard_ over the shoulder before he yanks his arm out from underneath him, shaking it to regain feeling as he rubs his other hand over his chest where Richard’s first fist landed.

 

“What the _fuck_?” Richard groans, blinking awake blearily.  He yelps when Kit punches him in the shoulder, staring at him in shock as Kit rolls away and sits up.

 

“You were having a nightmare,” Kit says before Richard can complain, “You fucking decked me.”

 

“What?” Richard says, still half-asleep as he forces himself up and looks over at Kit, “I hit you?”

 

“Yeah, it’s fine.  Just lost my temper for a second,” he says, leaning over to kiss Richard’s reddened shoulder, “It’s late, anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” Richard mumbles, pouting, and Kit just flicks him on the nose before sliding out of bed and padding over to one of the many drawers to find clothes.  He and Richard dress in shorts and t-shirts before parting, Richard up onto the deck and Kit into the kitchen so he can make breakfast.  They set sail two days ago, and, thus far, it’s already feeling like vacation.

 

He finds Richard putting down the sails when he comes up out of the cabin and into the brilliant sunlight, barefoot and with his aviators on, Richard’s in his hair, who thanks him with a kiss when he hands the sunglasses over.  They eat blueberry bagels with their feet hanging over the edge, dangling just above the water’s surface, shoulder-to-shoulder, and they chat lightly about sailing, nightmares, and dolphins until Richard is back at the wheel and Kit is lounging in the sun.  Music leaks out from the radio between them, and Kit argues politics until he’s being splashed with salt water, and he shrieks, trying to scramble away.

 

Richard laughs as Kit dances away, and he’s looping a rope through the wheel even as Kit is shedding his t-shirt.  He lets out a war cry before he jumps, and Richard is moments behind him.  Even in the bright sun, the blue water is still frighteningly cold.  Kit bursts back out of the water laughing, his black curls drenched straight across his neck.  Richard comes up gasping, and Kit splashes him, kicking away as he swims backward.

 

“This is nothing!” he exclaims just before Richard goes under again, his body disappearing in the blue and green only to appear again in front of Kit, who laughs.

 

“I guess this is warmer than Iceland,” Richard says before splashing Kit and then turning back toward the yacht.  They climb onto the deck dripping wet and shivering.  Kit flops down into the sun, and so Richard shakes out his auburn curls over him, smirking when Kit whines and slaps his leg.  They spend the rest of the morning drying off, Richard at the wheel and Kit across the desk.  Before long, though, Kit finds his way over to Richard and bugs him until the redhead consents to show him the ropes.  And so they spend the last of the light of daytime learning Kit on the sailing of a yacht until Richard is tying the wheel to the railing and they’re settling down for dinner, which turns out to be something colorful and delicious smelling that Kit whips up.

 

“What even is this,” Richard mumbles through a mouthful.

 

“Secret,” Kit sing-songs, and Richard just leans against him, shoulders warm together as they stare up at the starry sky.  They eat in silence, content to just enjoy each other’s company and the beautiful blue world around them.  When they’re finished, Richard makes to put away the dishes, but Kit stops him with a hand on his wrist.  Richard stills, looking back over at him with a quirked eyebrow, and the kiss takes him by surprise, Kit’s mouth fitting over his in a soft, uncertain touch.  Richard lets him have dominance, lets Kit decide the speed of the kiss because it’s been just over three weeks since Ben and three weeks since he’s seen Kit, open and inviting.

 

He knows that Ben’s accident was more than just him lying there in a hospital bed, that it was Ben saying sorry and everything that Kit had carefully constructed crashing down around him without any warning, that it was Richard setting their vacation in motion and showing Kit that all that was gone, never to be found again, that Ben was slowly slipping away from him and he’d done all he could.  Richard knows that Kit’s afraid of losing his best friend, knows that he’s been holing himself up to keep Richard from hurting, knows that he’s afraid to let Richard back in.  And so, when Kit kisses him, Richard doesn’t respond at first, shocked, and it nearly makes Kit pull away, but then Richard is letting the dishes drop back down onto the deck and kissing him back, not moving, just letting Kit do what he needs.

 

“Richard,” he says when they finally part, but Richard just shakes his head and pulls him in for another kiss, wriggling his wrist out of Kit’s grasp so that he can direct his hands to Richard’s waist, silent permission.  Kit takes a moment to get on board, but then he’s tugging Richard’s shorts off and lowering them onto the deck, his own shorts coming off with a swear and a growl.  Kit pauses just before their bodies touch, hovering over Richard as he looks down at him with a ghost of a mask over his eyes, and Richard leans up to kiss him softly.  When he lies back, he nods, and Kit fits their mouths together again, lowering down so that he’s snug in the circle of Richard’s hips.

 

That’s all it takes.  Richard rolls his hips up, lets Kit knows he’s there and this is okay, but then he feels the tension arise in Kit’s shoulders, and Kit’s mouth leaves his.  Richard never has time to react.  Kit jerks away from him, shaking, his head moving furiously.  “I can’t do this,” he manages to get out, and he’s standing before Richard even realizes it.

 

“Kit,” he says hurriedly, pushing himself up, “Kit, hold on.”  He reaches for him, but Kit steps out of his reach, and now Richard can see the tears spilling over in his eyes.  He has _no_ idea what’s going through Kit’s head, and that scares him more than he wants to admit.  Usually, he can read Kit, can give him one look and know it all, but Kit’s face is a mess of confusion and anger and heartache, and Richard doesn’t know _why_.

 

And then Kit’s gone.  “ _Damn it_ ,” Richard hisses, reaching for his shorts.  He yanks them on, grabs the dishes and Kit’s clothes, and then hurries down the stairs, looking around.  He can distinctly hear the shower going, and he has to force himself not to storm into the small bathroom.  Instead, he tugs a hand roughly through his curls, swears, and lets the dishes clatter into the sink angrily.

 

He can’t be angry.  He _can’t_.  But, gods be good, he is.  He takes a moment to collect himself, to close his eyes and breathe, and, when he opens them, he’s a little calmer.  He grabs a pack of cigarettes sitting on the counter and heads into the bedroom, flopping down on the bed for a moment before he reaches into one of the drawers where they’ve been keeping their electronics.  He digs around until he finds the satellite phone, grabs his own on the way, and he scrolls through his contacts until he hits the right number.

 

It rings while he stands and closes the door, and it’s still ringing as he changes into something comfortable to sleep in.  Richard’s about to hang up when a voice answers, “Hello?”

 

“Bradley?” Richard asks, unsure because that definitely doesn’t sound like his voice.  He’s known Bradley James since secondary school, when Bradley’s parents shipped him off to Ireland for two years of private schooling, and they’ve managed to keep in touch over the years.  He’s part of Richard’s shit friends that Kit always makes fun of and Richard hates, but Bradley’s usually off filming in France or knocking some sense into the group, and so he’s always considered him beyond the shit friends tag.

 

“Uh, hold on,” the voice says, and then there’s a bit of movement before, “ _Bradley!  Telephone!_ ”  The voice pauses, listening to something muffled, and then, “ _I dunno, some guy with a hot Irish accent!_ ”  A moment later, the voice returns, “Sorry, he’s coming.”

 

“Thanks, Colin,” Richard says, waiting, and Colin figures it out a few seconds later.

 

“ _Richard_?  Holy shit, I haven’t heard your voice in _ages_.  How’ve you been?”

 

“Really great, yeah.  And you?”

 

“Fantastic.  Ah, here’s the king himself.”

 

Colin passes the phone over to Bradley who says his name like Colin did and then, “Hey, it’s been a while.  Couple months, to be— _Colin_.  Go take in the rest of the shopping, you eavesdropping terd face.”

 

“Asshat,” Colin says, and Richard grins.

 

“ _Anyway_ ,” Bradley comes back, “Couple months, yeah.  Last I heard you were planning a sailing trip for Spain.  Get lost at sea?”

 

“Thankfully, no.  I’m calling from the satellite.  Kit’s—in the shower.”

 

“Oh,” Bradley says, and Richard sighs, rubbing his face, “He’s _in the shower_.”

 

“Yeah,” Richard mumbles.

 

“So that’s why you’re calling.  What happened?  You sounded so excited for this vacation when I saw you over drinks, what changed?”

 

“Just—it’s stupid, honestly, and I shouldn’t be mad, but it’s just pissing me off so much, all of this.”

 

“Slow down,” Bradley interrupts him, “Can you hold on for a second?”

 

“Yeah, of course.”

 

He can just make out Bradley’s voice, and it makes him smile a little, “I’m gonna take this, okay?  Do you wanna make dinner or go out?  I don’t care.”

 

“I’ll make dinner.  Everything alright?”

 

“Yeah, yeah.  Thank you.”

 

There’s a pause, Richard assumes a kiss, and then Bradley’s back, “Sorry, just had to arrange dinner plans.”

 

“So, you and Colin are still going strong?”

 

“Coming up on our two year, can you even believe it?  Fucking insane.”

 

“That’s amazing, I’m so pleased for you,” Richard says, and he means it.

 

“Yeah, well.  You and Kit have been together awhile, right?”

 

“About a year and a half.”

 

“Alright, spill,” Bradley says, “What’s going on?  Is this still shit about Barnes?  Cos I told you, man, I’ll find him and fuck him up.”

 

“No, it’s—I mean, _it is_ , but—damn it, Bradley.”

 

“You and Kit _are_ still together, right?”

 

“Yeah, of course.  Absolutely.  We’re just—fighting.  And we don’t fight.”

 

“And it’s about Barnes.”

 

“His name is Ben, Bradley.”

 

“Okay, so it’s about Ben, and you aren’t mad at it being about Ben, you’re just frustrated with Kit.”

 

“Stop using your university degree against me.”  Bradley laughs, and Richard waits a moment before he launches in, “So, basically, Ben was in a car accident recently, and it was touch and go at the hospital for a little bit, and Kit was there with Ben’s brother, Jack, and—Ben fucking apologized, and it was just shit.  Total and complete shit because it’s got Kit all screwed up in his head, and he hasn’t been the same since the accident, and I just don’t know what to do, Bradley.  We haven’t slept together in over three weeks, and it was looking good tonight, and he just freaked out.  Got up and walked away, shaking and crying, and—and I think—” Richard stops, jaw clenching.  He doesn’t want to say it out loud.

 

“You think he still loves Ben,” Bradley says it for him a few seconds later, “Go on.”

 

“It just makes sense.  He could push Ben away before because he was being an asshole, but then he got into the accident, and he was in the hospital, apologizing, and—I get it.  The floodgates just opened in Kit’s head, made it okay again, and I don’t know if he’s ever stopped—loving him.”

 

“And you think, because of all that, that he might be questioning you and him?”

 

“Maybe?  Except you have that voice you used to use when I was being an idiot.”

 

“Because you are being an idiot, Richard.  How long have you and Kit been together for?  A year and a half?  I’m going to have to go ahead and say that, even if he did love Ben still, it certainly isn’t anywhere near enough for him to call it quits with you.  Look, Richard, you told me about them, what their history was when you first heard it, and, back then, I was worried.  I thought Kit might bounce back to Ben at any given moment, but now?  No way.”

 

“I don’t know, Bradley.  I get that, I get all of it, I see it, but—there’s so much between them.  How can I ever really know for sure?  How can I possibly know that it’s done, that there’s nothing left between them that could overrun us?  I can’t, not without being an ass.”

 

“Well, yeah.  Richard, if you ask Kit if he still loves Ben, I can guarantee things will end.  Don’t you trust him?”

 

“I do, of course I do.  I just don’t know what to do right now.  I’ve been trying so hard to go easy with him, to just let him figure out his head, but it’s been three weeks, Bradley.  Shouldn’t he know by now whether or not—whether or not he and I are right?”

 

“He does know, Richard.  That’s not the problem.  From what I know, the problem is that Kit’s only and best friend nearly died, someone he’s been in a romantic relationship for a very large portion of this friendship, albeit a severely fucked up one, and now he’s feeling guilty because he thinks you’re thinking exactly everything you _are_ thinking.”

 

“Seriously, why go into acting?”  Bradley just laughs at him, and Richard pauses again.  “So, what should I do?”

 

The door opens, and Richard jerks up off the bed, eyes wide.  Kit just blinks at him, and he’s wearing an expression Richard can’t read again.  “You should have talked to me,” Kit says, and oh _fuck_.

 

“Bradley, I have to go,” he says into the phone, but then Kit’s shaking his head.

 

“No, go right ahead.  Keep bitching about me.  I’ll be on the deck.”  Kit grabs a pair of sweatpants from the ground and slams the door behind him, and Richard stares at the door blankly for a moment.  He can just barely hear Bradley saying his name in the phone over the roaring in his ears.

 

Finally, he exhales, his hearing rushing back.  “ _Richard_.  Get out there.  _Now_.  Richard.”  He hangs up at the same time he nearly throws himself off the bed, yanks open the door, and runs for the stairs.  Kit has his hands braced against the railing opposite the hatch door, his arms trembling and his chin ducked down toward his chest.

 

Richard steps forward, touching him carefully on the shoulder, and Kit snaps, whipping around and smacking Richard’s hand away.  “Do you honestly think that?” Kit roars, pointing toward the stairs.

 

“Yes,” Richard says without hesitation, crossing his arms and stepping back, “How can I not?  Kit, you—you won’t even let me be near you when we sleep.  What am I supposed to be thinking right now?”

 

“Are you fucking _kidding me_?”  Kit’s voice is still raised, and his face is distorted in fury.  For the first time in his life, Richard is mildly afraid of him.  “You—you jump straight to me still being— _in love_ with _Ben_?  Are you mentally fucked up or something?  _Honestly, Richard_?”

 

“Don’t give me that!” Richard shouts, and he hadn’t meant to yell, really, but he can’t keep it in anymore, “You really think I have no reason to believe that?  _Honestly, Kit_?” he throws the phrase right back at him, “You come to me with this— _fuck buddy story_ about how you and Ben were always screwing around in between relationships, and how do you think that makes me feel?  For _months_ I thought I was going to lose you!  I mean, how could I compete with _Ben Barnes_ , your first and only friend?  And then—then he was in the hospital, and I _was_ losing you!  And it’s not even just about tonight, Kit!  It’s—it’s _all of it_!  It’s you avoiding me and pushing me away and not talking to me, and I just—I can’t do it anymore.”

 

“Yeah, why don’t you just go and cry to fucking _Bradley_ about it!  I’m sure that will solve everything!”

 

“ _Oh my god_!” Richard blows, stalking across the deck toward Kit.  He gets in his face, using his height as an advantage.  He’s never done that before, never, especially because he knows how it makes Kit feel, and Kit instantly steps back, shrinking a little.  Richard just keeps on going, “Bradley is my _friend_!  Not to mention Bradley is in a _serious relationship_ , something we clearly _don’t have_!”

 

“I pushed my _best friend_ away until I barely spoke to him anymore, and you think I _don’t love you_?  You think that isn’t serious?  I have given up _everything_ for you!  I wanted to fix things with Ben so bad, but I had to think of you, and I didn’t want to lose that because I _love_ you, Richard!”

 

“Because I would have been so upset if you fixed things with Ben!  You really think I want you to be friendless?  I _want_ Ben in your life because I know how much he means to you!  Why wouldn’t you just _talk to me_?”

 

“Because of _this_ ,” Kit spits, shoving him back, finally fed up enough with Richard towering of him.  “Because of _you_.  Because you don’t trust me.”

 

Richard just stares at him, chest heaving, and Kit stares right back, unmoving.  Finally, though, he turns his gaze away, stalls for a moment longer, and then heads for the stairs.  It doesn’t sink in until he hears the bedroom door slam, and then Richard sucks in a breath, holds it, and, when he exhales, it’s halfway to a sob.  He tries to hold it all in, but then he can hear something smash into the floor, and he breaks, shoulders shuddering as he covers his mouth with a hand.

 

He staggers backward, reaching for the railing, and he sinks to the deck, back pressing against the ship as his breath comes sharp and angry, tears falling hot down his face and sobs aching in his chest.  He pulls up his knees to press his forehead there and just lets everything go, lets his whole body take the weight of his words and spill out.

 

When he pauses to suck in a breath and lift his head, trying to force himself to calm down, he can hear Kit, and it breaks him further, makes his vision fuzzy, but it also pushes him forward, forces him to stand, forces him to go down the stairs, forces him to let his head fall against the locked bedroom door.

 

“Kit,” he says softly, brokenly, his voice cracking, “Kit, I’m—I’m so sorry.”

 

The door opens immediately, and, without any warning, Richard has an armful of Kit.  They sink right to the ground, Richard on his knees, pulling Kit into him and burying his face in his black curls, banishing everything in his head but the way Kit’s whole body shakes, the way the sobs heave out of him like he’s so far from being in control, the way he says Richard’s name, breaking it into nearly six syllables, his hands clenching into fists in Richard’s t-shirt.

 

“I don’t—I don’t,” Kit begins, hiccupping, and it takes him a second before he can continue, “I don’t know how—how to live without Ben in my life.  I can’t— _do it_ , Richard.  He’s my b-b-best friend.”

 

“Kit, I _don’t care_.  I just can’t even—understand the mentality of not talking to me about it.  I trust you, Kit.  I always have, I always will, and there is no doubt in my mind that you and I mean something, that you wouldn’t jeopardize that with Ben.  I just didn’t know what else to think because you were so far gone, and I couldn’t get you back, and everything was building up to that, and— _Kit_.  I love you.  You have to know that.  I want you to be happy.  I want Ben back in your life.  I just—I want us to be okay.  I want to take back everything I said.  I never want to stop loving you.”

 

Kit is looking at him by now, sitting back on his heels and calming.  When Richard finishes, he leans forward and presses their mouths together, and it’s messy and wet and salty, but it’s _so good_.  Kit fists a hand in Richard’s curls, cups the other around his jaw, and just holds him there.  When he pulls back, he leans his temple against Richard’s and breathes out, eyes closed.

 

“I never once thought of leaving you.  Never.  I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, and that will never change.  I’m— _so sorry_ , Richard.  The things I said—I wasn’t thinking.  And neither were you, and we should just forget this happened, and we should go back.  We should go back to when Ben was my friend, and you were the most important thing in my life, and we weren’t fighting, and my whole body hurts so much right now.”

 

Richard lets out a small laugh before he pulls Kit into his arms again, holding him tightly.  “Let’s go to bed,” he says after a while, and Kit nods, slowly pulling out of Richard’s arms.  Richard helps him up, and they crawl under the blankets and curl around each other, legs and arms wound together, Kit’s face pressed against Richard’s chest, listening to the slow thump of his heart.

 

\--

 

_August 10, 2012._

They’re out to dinner, Italian, when Kit touches Richard’s hand and says, “There are two men outside with cameras.”

 

“We are supposed to be brothers, after all,” Richard quips, grinning.

 

Kit returns the smile, saying, “Incest isn’t really uncommon in Westeros.”

 

“Necrophilia might be frowned upon.”

 

“Especially with a wolf head sewn on.  Is that considered bestiality?”

 

“Maybe?”

 

“Have you started the fourth book yet?”

 

“Vaguely.  I’m still reeling from the end of the third.”

 

“Gods, I do _not_ want to be around to see Michelle filming that.”

 

“Thankfully, I’ll be dead,” Richard says, and Kit can hear the twinge of sadness in his voice.

 

“It’s going to be weird without the king in the north.  On set.”

 

“You’ll be freezing your balls off in Iceland anyway.  It’s not like we see each other on set regardless.”

 

“And you’ll be off on some other show or movie.”

 

“You think?”

 

“I know.  You’re a brilliant actor, Richard.  And those curls with that accent.  People _swoon_ over you.”

 

“Oh, hush up.”

 

“I certainly do.  Why do you think I keep coming back to your bed?” Kit winks at him, and Richard rolls his eyes, grinning.

 

“Because you’re an asshole,” he says.

 

“No, I _have_ an asshole.”

 

“ _Kit_.  We’re in public.”

 

“Suddenly, I am incredibly horny.  Remember in Brazil when you fucked me against the door and we were almost caught by the interviewers?  That was kind of awesome.”

 

Richard shifts minutely, trying to ignore the way Kit’s words are going straight to his dick.  “Stop,” he says quietly, and Kit smirks but changes the subject.  Even so, it doesn’t help.  Without even trying, Kit manages to keep him flustered and wanting.  His dick sits heavy in his tan pants, and he thinks Kit knows, if only by the way he smiles before he excuses himself to the bathroom.

 

It’s his turn to pay, and he signs the check before making his way toward the bathroom.  Inside, it’s empty save for Kit at the sink, and Richard clicks the lock on the door and goes over to him, chewing on his lip.  “For fuck’s sake, Kit,” he murmurs as he reaches him, leaning down to nip at the curve of his neck.  Goosebumps rise almost immediately on Kit’s skin, and Richard grins, kissing his way toward the nape of his neck, pausing there to bite.  Kit shudders, his knuckles white where he’s holding onto the sink, and Richard takes that as his okay go.

 

He steps in against Kit, the curve of his ass slotting in against Richard’s hips.  He uses one hand to unbutton Kit’s obnoxious green skinnies and the other to slip under his brown shirt to scratch at his stomach.  Kit groans, muscles jumping and bunching under Richard’s hand before Richard releases his neck and squirms a hand under Kit’s pants.

 

“ _Fuck,_ Kit,” he says because Kit went commando today.  He palms him under his skinnies briefly before he gives up, flicking the button open deftly and carefully tugging down the zipper.  Kit’s head drops back down on his shoulder, fingers still curled around the counter.  Richard had imagined crowding Kit into one of the stalls, jerking them off quick and dirty, but now he flicks his eyes up to the mirror, staring at Kit’s flushed face, how it creeps down his neck a little, disappearing in his black beard.  His mouth hangs open a little, his eyes closed, long lashes fanned across his cheekbones.

 

With a bite to the curve of his neck to shoulder, Richard tugs Kit out of his jeans, rolling his hand up and passing a thumb over the head of his dick.  Kit groans, and Richard smirks as he pulls his bottom lip in to bite on it.  He watches Kit’s eyes roll under his lids, and he bites a little harder, making the tan skin there angry.  When he pulls away, it’s to nip his way to the back of Kit’s neck again, and he can feel the muscles in his thighs jump and tense when he sucks the skin there between his teeth, marks Kit where everyone can see.

 

Kit’s palm on the counter startles Richard, and he licks a stripe over the new bruise, eyes finding Kit’s in the mirror.  They’re dark, darker than Richard’s seen them in a while, and it makes him so hungry for Kit’s voice, for the way he moves, down to the tiny twitches that he can’t control.

 

When Kit whines, it’s because Richard’s taken his hand away, and Richard just kisses his shoulder and tugs his jeans down a little, letting them settle around his thighs before he hikes Kit’s shirt up and drops to his knees.  “Oh fuck,” Kit groans, bracing one hand against the counter and tightening the other around his cock.  Richard struggles his own trousers open, freeing his dick with a sigh.  He palms it slowly, enjoying himself, but then Kit makes this little impatient noise, and Richard smirks, leaning forward and nipping at the curve of his ass.  Kit jerks forward a little, a high-pitched whine forcing its way out of him, and Richard can’t even believe they’re doing this _in the bathroom of a public restaurant._   It excites him a little, the fact that Kit can do this to him, can open him up until he’s willing to do almost anything.  But it also reminds him of where they are and the consequences of their actions, and his next bite is accompanied with the scratch of his beard along the inside of Kit’s ass, where Kit is most sensitive and vocal about.

 

“Be quiet,” Richard murmurs, his voice a whisper against Kit’s ass, and he doesn’t give Kit time to respond before he licks a stripe over his hole, drops a wet kiss there, and then pushes his thumb and tongue through tight rings of muscle.  He can hear the scream build, and then Kit chokes it off, swearing profusely.  Richard just smirks and pushes his thumb in farther, tongue flicking out and against Kit.  He sets up a rhythm, and he knows Kit isn’t going to last long, not when he pulls away to breathe, sucking his index finger inside his own mouth to wet it and then diving inside that tight heat and crooking upward.  He gulps down a breath and leans forward to tongue over one of Kit’s balls, who chokes down another cry and moans brokenly at the attention.

 

He nips his way back up to where he’s got two fingers twisting inside Kit, and he pulls them out quickly, sealing his mouth over his hole again, sucking before he pushes his tongue inside again, groaning against Kit’s ass.  “Fuck,” he hears suddenly, clearer than the rest, “F-fuck, Richard.”

 

“Mm, Kit,” Richard murmurs as he retreats again, fingers replacing his tongue as he reaches up to bite at the small of Kit’s back.

 

Kit’s palm smacks the counter again, Richard makes his back, and he scrapes over his prostate, every muscle in Kit’s body tensing angrily before he swears and staggers forward a little, spilling over the porcelain countertop.  Richard sinks back onto his heels, fingers sliding out of Kit’s ass, his cock leaking in his lap.

 

That’s when they hear the knock on the door.

 

“Shit,” Richard says as a key jingles and then finds its place in the door.

 

“Shit fuck,” Kit says, grabbing paper towels and wiping up his mess before shoving Richard toward one of the stalls.  Kit closes the door as quietly as he can, locking it and flapping a hand at Richard as the main door opens.  Richard backs onto the toilet, Kit following him, and he nearly smacks Kit at the ridiculous grin on his face.

 

“Is there anyone in here?” an official sounding voice asks, and Richard puts a hand over Kit’s mouth, glaring at him.  Kit responds by biting his palm and curling a hand over Richard’s thick cock and squeezing.  Richard almost gives them away, but then Kit is pushing their mouths together and swallowing his moan.

 

When Kit pulls back, Richard shakes his head before leaning it against Kit’s shoulder, one hand curled around his left arm and the other fisted in Kit’s curls.

 

“I think it was just randomly locked,” the voice says again as Kit’s thumb slides across the slit, and Richard bites his lip so hard it bleeds.

 

“Did you check the stalls?” another voice asks.

 

“Richard,” Kit whispers, and Richard looks up, bottom lip still caught between his teeth.  Kit kisses him, tasting copper, and then his other hand slips over his thigh and finds his balls, catches them in his fingers, and Richard whines, nearly inaudible, nails digging into Kit’s arm as Kit digs his thumb against the bundle of nerves beneath the crown.  Richard’s spine trickles desire, and then Kit’s licking the roof of his mouth and squeezing up his cock, and he’s done for.

 

Kit keeps stroking him through his orgasm, keeping his mouth busy until the footsteps finally retreat, and he lets Richard breathe.  Kit laughs a heartbeat later, and Richard looks down, groaning.  They’re both sticky and a mess, but Richard can’t even find it in him to care.  “You go out first,” he says to Kit, kissing him lazily, “I’ll be right there.”

 

“I’ll get a cab,” Kit murmurs against his mouth, and then he’s gone, tucking himself away and exiting the stall.  Richard can hear him wash his hands, again, before the door opens and closes, and he counts two minutes in his head before he goes to wash himself up, as well.

 

Somehow, they end up in a cab and on the way back to the house without any trouble.

 

\--

 

The next morning, Richard wakes up to the sound of Joshua Radin and the smell of pancakes layered over the ever-present ocean breeze.  Richard stretches in their huge bed, white sheets shifting over his bare skin.  When they’d first docked and taken a cab to the beach house, Kit had punched him lightly in the shoulder, his face awed and _so_ happy.  It’s a beautiful place, one massive floor on a long stretch of beach.  It’s made up almost entirely of whites, blues, ad tans, which creates a sort of atmosphere for them, clean and peaceful.

 

He feels this way as he wakes, the sun coming in through the open curtains.  When he finally sits, Joshua Radin switches to Sanders Bohlke, and the pancake smell gets more prominent.  He gets out of bed to slip on a pair of briefs, and then Kit is pushing into the room, holding a tray.  “Back in bed!” he exclaims, and Richard laughs, doing as he’s told.

 

Kit carefully climbs into the bed as Richard soaks him up, smiling.  He’s got his curls pulled back in a ponytail, something he usually only does when they hit the gym.  He’s mostly dressed, too, in a v-neck and shorts, though he gets right under the blankets again, settling the tray on his lap.  Richard looks over the spread—pancakes, fruit, tea, and toast.  “You’re adorable,” he says as Kit hands him a mug, and Kit just kisses him on the cheek.

 

They have breakfast in bed, talking and laughing, and then they shower together, content to just be near one another.  And afterward, Kit convinces Richard to go swimming with him in the gorgeous Spanish coast.  They spend most of the day outside, in the water and soaking up the sun in turn.  Richard thinks it’s pretty much a perfect day.

 

\--

 

_October 26, 2012._

Richard swears and flaps his hand in the air, now-sore thumb throbbing dully.  “Ah, fuck,” he hears Kit, and then the smaller man is hurrying into their bedroom.  “You’re going to be late,” Kit says, reaching his boots and yanking them on, “Almost ready?”

 

“Yeah, just need my jacket.  I can call a cab, if you want.”

 

“No, it’s fine.  C’mon.”

 

They head out, Richard grabbing his duffle and jacket while Kit juggles his keys, cigarettes, jacket, and phone.  He drops his keys twice before Richard takes them, and then they’re outside, piling into Kit’s jeep.  While Kit pulls onto the street, Richard lights a cigarette for himself and then Kit.  “Thanks, love,” Kit says, “Alright, Adelaide is on the way, but I can get her after, if you want.”

 

“No, get her now.  Otherwise, you’ll be late, too.”  And so it’s settled.  They pick up Adelaide Clemens, and Richard waves hello.  He briefly met the cast during his visit to see Kit, though Adelaide had seemed a little put-off about Kit being taken, and by a man, no less.

 

They arrive at the airport almost exactly on time, and Kit gets out to see him to the doors.  Once there, Kit sighs and pulls Richard to him, breathing him in and memorizing the way they fit together.  “I’m gonna miss you,” he says after a moment, and Richard squeezes him before they step back.

 

“I’ll be home in a week,” he promises, hand coming to settle on Kit’s arm before he kisses him, long and slow.

 

Finally, though, Kit pulls back, frowning, “I have to go.”

 

“I love you,” Richard says before he grabs his duffle from the ground, and, when he straightens, Kit gives him a quick kiss.

 

“I love you, too,” he says, and it still makes Richard beam, even after all this time.

 

They part then, Richard into the airport and Kit back to his car.  Adelaide starts to say something when they’re on the road again, she in the passenger seat now, but Kit’s phone rings, blaring Van Halen, _Hot for Teacher_ , and Kit sighs, digging it out.  “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”  He’s a million different kinds of nervous as he answers, “Hey Ben.”

 

Ben pauses a moment before responding, “ _Hi_.  Sorry, I didn’t think you’d actually answer.”

 

“No, it’s—it’s really good to hear from you.  Everything okay?”

 

“Yeah, I was just, uh—just at Helen’s, and I thought of you.  How is everything?”

 

“Really good.  I’m actually on my way to the _Silent Hill_ premiere, so I can’t talk, but uhm—Ben.”  He stops, but Ben doesn’t say anything.  “I want to see you,” Kit says finally, “Are you free this week at all?”

 

“Yeah,” Ben says immediately, “Yeah.  How’s tomorrow?  Wanna get drinks at Jack’s?”

 

“Are you _ever_ going to ask me out to food before you try to get me drunk?” Kit says, letting it slip out before he can think about it, and it does the trick.

 

Ben’s laugh brings everything crashing down, erases it all until they’re just _kitandben_ again.  “Such a woman,” Ben teases, “Always nagging.  I’ll see you for dinner, then?”

 

“Yeah.  Jack’s, seven.  Bye, Ben.”

 

“Later, hot stuff.”

 

When Kit hangs up, he feels like his whole world is finally balanced and right again.

 

\--

 

Kit wakes up a little fuzzy from last night, and so he makes coffee instead of tea while he checks his phone.  There’s a text from Richard that makes him smile, _my feet are cold_ , and he waits while Richard’s phone goes to voicemail as his coffee finishes brewing.  “Hey.  Just woke up with feeling in _both_ of my arms, imagine that.  I hope filming is going well.  I’m sure you’re kicking ass.  I’m still a jealous motherfucker over here, but whatever.  Have fun in the Tardis.  I’m going out with Ben tonight, but I’ll have my phone.  I love you.  It sucks sleeping without you.  I’ll talk to you later.”  He ends the message, goes to retrieve the newspaper on his steps, and then settles in to enjoy his coffee.

 

Sometime between getting comfortable on the sofa and noon, he falls asleep.  Last night really had been hell—he’d spent most of it tossing and turning this way and that, waking up in a fury and stomping around his room until he threw himself back in bed and tried to force himself to sleep.  He hates to admit that Richard has such a strong effect on him, but he feels out of sorts when his curly Scotsman isn’t snoring on top of his arm, making him want to desperately tug on a curl and listen to him swear at Kit in a sleep-slurred accent.  He misses the way his feet overheat because Richard is always cold or the way Richard pokes at him because Kit likes to octopus him sometimes.  He misses waking up and just staying in bed for hours, just being together.

 

He’s dreaming about Richard tickling him while he’s half-asleep when his phone rings, and it jolts him out of his smile-stupid slumber.  He reaches for the phone blearily where he’d dropped it on the coffee table, and he can’t make out the caller ID because of his dry and moving contacts.  “Motherfucker,” he grumbles, getting up as he answers, “Hello?”

 

“Hey sweetie,” his mum says cheerily, and he takes a moment to gather his bearings before he heads for the stairs.

 

“Hey mum, how are you?”

 

“Good.  You sound off—everything alright?”

 

“Yeah, sorry.  Just—your call woke me up.  I fell asleep on the sofa, apparently, and now my contacts are all messed up.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, darling.  The sofa?  Did you and Richard have a fight?”

 

“No!” Kit exclaims as he finally gets into his room and fumbles around his nightstand until he can find his contact case.  He continues only once he’s pushed on his glasses, rubbing angrily at his eyes so that they water, “He’s away filming a guest role for _Doctor Who_.  I—couldn’t really sleep well without him.”  He sighs at this last bit, and he can practically hear the amusement in his mother’s voice.

 

“How adorable.  Listen, I’m in the neighborhood, and I was wondering if you wanted to catch lunch.”

 

“Uh—sure, when?”

 

“I just pulled up in front of your flat.”

 

“Thanks for the warning, mum.  I need to change, I’ll be out in a moment.”

 

“We’ll be here.”  She hangs up before he can question the _we_ , but he just shrugs and goes  about dressing, tugging on a pair of tight jeans, one of Richard’s long sleeve shirts, this one a dark green, his Doc Martens, mostly unlaced because he’s feeling lazy, and his black leather jacket.  He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose before rifling a hand through his wayward hair, frowning at it, and then heading out regardless.  He grabs his wallet and keys from the Tardis, and then he’s locking the flat door behind him and jogging down the front steps to mum waving in her little Volkswagen.

 

“Hello,” he greets as he climbs into the passenger seat.  A beat later, as he closes the door and looks up at the rearview mirror out of habit, he frowns.  “John,” he says tightly, and his brother nods in response.

 

“Now boys,” his mum says, but that’s all she says before she drives off.  The silence is brutal until Deb sighs and says, “So, _Doctor Who_?  Is this going to be something new or…?”

 

“No, just a guest role probably,” Kit says, shrugging, “It’ll be good for him.  He’s been kind of moping around about not being able to go back to _Thrones_ after the Red Wedding.”

 

“I can imagine.  It’ll give him more of an opportunity to visit you, though,” she tries to reason, but Kit sighs.

 

“Yeah, but—he needs to be doing something.  I’d hate to be off in Iceland and constantly worrying about if he was keeping busy.”

 

“He will be.  Richard is a bright young man, I’m sure he’ll find something.  He’s quite the gifted actor, as well.  I saw those pictures from the premiere of your new movie, by the way.”

 

“They’re up already?  That was just yesterday,” he says, disbelieving.  He’s used to it with _Thrones_ , but he hadn’t imagined it would happen with _Silent Hill_.

 

“You’re very handsome, Kit.  Of course they’re already up.  Your brother just got a promotion at his job, as well.  Both of my boys are doing wonderfully right now, it’s excellent.”  Neither respond to the comment, and they lapse into silence again until they arrive at the restaurant, Kit’s phone buzzing as gets out.

 

“Sorry,” he directs to Deb, hanging back as she and John head toward the doors.  “Hey,” he says into the phone, “I was just thinking about you.”

 

“This set, Kit.  _Gods_ , I wish you could be here.  You would absolutely die,” Richard rushes out, “I can’t talk long, but I wanted to give you a quick ring.  I think I’m going to be tied up for the rest of the day.  Matt’s asked me out to drinks tonight with Jenna, I’m thinking of going.”

 

“Definitely!  That’s awesome, Richard.  I’m so pleased for you.”

  
“Thank you.  Really.  I know you were kind of bummed out that you had to stay home for this, but I’m having such a great time.  The cast is amazing.  And, _Kit_!  _I met Steven Moffat_!He was _here_!”

 

“Shut up!” Kit exclaims as he they enter the waiting area, “Seriously?”

  
“Oh my goodness, I couldn’t even believe it.  Alright, I gotta go, I just wanted to check in.  I love you.  I miss you like crazy already,” Richard says, his voice dropping until Kit is biting the inside of his cheek to keep his smile from cracking his face in half.

 

“I love you, too,” he murmurs, “I’ll talk to you later.”  When he pockets his phone, John is giving him a look he really doesn’t want to address right now.

 

They’re seated after a few minutes of waiting, and, once they’ve settled in and gotten drinks, Deb smiles first at Kit and then at John.  “I’d like this to be a nice lunch out with my two sons, alright?  I don’t want any hostility today, you hear?”

 

“As long as he can keep his gayness to himself,” John mutters just loud enough that it’s not entirely under his breath, and Kit sighs, looking away momentarily.

 

“Mum,” he says when she starts to speak, “It’s okay.  It doesn’t matter.  How is everything?  How’s dad?”  Deb blinks at him for a moment before taking the change of conversation, but John stares at him a little longer, disbelieving.  He gets it, knows why they’re both shocked that he’s just brushing it off.  Back when he and Ben had first started their long train wreck of a relationship, he’d always been on the offensive with John, shouting down every rude comment he had, and he figures it’s because he hasn’t seen John in so long, at least not while he’s been with Richard, that he isn’t fazed by it.

 

However, it doesn’t take long before it starts to make him a little more than beneath-the-surface angry.  They’re just finishing with their entrees and waiting for desert when Kit turns to his mum, nervous.  “Mum,” he begins, stilling his hands from their fiddling in his lap, “I, uh—I wanted to ask Richard round for dinner with the family… so he could meet everyone.  I mean, I’ve—I’ve met his folks—kind of.  I’d like him to meet you.”

 

“That would be excellent,” Deb says immediately, “Of course.  Let me speak with your father and get back to you, alright?  When is he going to be home from filming?”

 

“In a week, thereabouts,” Kit says, mouth breaking into a grin.

 

“Next week sometime, then.  I’ll give you a ring.  Maybe John could invite his girlfriend over?”

 

“She doesn’t need to be near _that_ ,” John snaps, looking away from them as he crosses his arms.

 

Kit frowns instantly, and Deb sighs.  “John,” she says softly, “I’d like us to have a nice family dinner.  Your brother wants us to meet someone very important in his life, and—”

 

“Yeah, and Louise is very important in my life, and I don’t think she’d appreciate being around something so— _disgusting_ ,” he spits the word, and Kit has to remind himself that he’s in a public place.

 

“It’s fine,” he says, cutting his mother off, “Don’t come.”

 

“Kit—” Deb begins.

 

“No, mum, it’s fine.  It’s not as though I wanted my _brother_ to meet the man I love anyway.  Excuse me.”  His mum lets him out of the booth seat, and he heads for the bathroom, hands shaking.  He dials Ben’s number halfway there, and he’s just letting himself inside when Ben answers, “Don’t tell me you’re cancelling.  I _will_ come and drag your ass out of there.”

 

“Ben, can you come pick me up?  I’m out to lunch with my mum and John.”

 

“Shit,” Ben says because he knows and he gets it immediately, “Yeah, I’m actually nearby.  Deb’s favorite place, yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You okay?  You didn’t get kicked out, did you?”

 

“No, just—in the bathroom.  Fucking—”

 

“Just ignore him,” Ben cuts him off, “I’ll be there in ten.”

 

Ben hangs up, and Kit wastes his time using the toilet and washing his hands for an extended period of time.  He looks at himself in the mirror when he’s finished, takes in the big-framed glasses, the messy curls, and the unshaven jaw and wonders if people say nasty things about him behind his back like John does, wonders if they can tell what his brother believes is so inherently wrong in him.

 

He sighs—he’s letting his brain think too much, and he needs to stop before it makes him mental.  When he exits the bathroom, Deb is tearing into John, quietly, but Kit can tell from the arch of her shoulders what her tone is.  He smiles a little, mentally thanking her for being so wonderful through all of his ridiculous roads in life, and then he heads over, nodding to his mum before sliding into the booth again.

 

John doesn’t speak until they’re leaving the restaurant, and Kit stops at the sidewalk, touching his mum’s arms.  He nods toward the black SUV parked a few feet away.  Deb sighs, but nods and turns to kiss him on the cheek, pulling him in for a hug afterward.  “Tell Ben I say hello,” she says, giving his shoulder a pat before she heads off, and John pauses a moment, not looking at Kit.

 

“You’re breaking her heart,” he says very quietly before he follows her, and Kit stares after his brother for a few moments, his chest tight.

 

Finally, though, he shakes his head and stuffs his hands in his pockets, walking toward Ben’s car.  When he gets in, Ben is on the phone, and he mouths an apology, but Kit just shakes his head and settles in for the ride.  It doesn’t occur to him that he should maybe be listening to what Ben is saying until he hears, “Uh, no, I just picked up Kit, so do you mind doing the shopping today?  Spur of the moment, sorry.  I’ll be back late tonight.”

 

Kit blinks and looks over at Ben, who is smiling lightly at whatever the response is.  He pulls out of the restaurant parking lot as Kit sits a little straighter and turns his gaze to the road, listening.  Ben laughs softly and says, “Yeah, okay, whatever you say.  Last time we did horror you almost shit yourself.  Get a nice romcom so you can cry into your pillow, alright?”  Ben laughs even harder at the response, and then he’s tying up the conversation, “Sci-fi sounds good.  I’ll trust your poor film judgment.  Speak later, yeah?”  He hangs up, turns to see Kit’s shit-eating grin, and rolls his eyes.

 

“The shit I have to tell you, mate,” Ben says, shaking his head as he turns his gaze back to the road, “You just wait.”

 

Kit smiles and doesn’t respond, just looks out the window and thinks of Richard, thinks about Ben knowing immediately he’d had someone in his life, thinks about how even the thought of him makes Kit’s stomach flip and his heart thump a little faster.  Despite everything and everyone, he knows, more than anything, that this is it.  He’s never going to let Richard go, not if he wants to sleep well and breathe right and live happily, not if he wants warm feet in the winter and eggs in the morning and a sleepy picture when they’re far away, something to make him bite his lip and wonder how he ever thought _anything_ was better than this.

**Author's Note:**

> LOOK. IT’S DONE.
> 
> So, a long time ago, it seems, I never used to do long author’s notes. In the very beginning, I always did, but then I stopped, just a few lines, because it’s obnoxious, I know. For some reason, I’ve picked that habit up again, it seems, and so, I apologize now. I will try to keep this short, though I have two very important things to tell you guys about.
> 
> These two, Kit and Richard, no matter how long I stay away from them, if it’s months in between fics, I seem to keep going back to them. I always reread the first one and think about what I still want to do with their life, and I just can’t get away. And so, as has apparently become my new standard, I’m going to be making a series out of this. It will be titled we’re living louder, and this is the second part of it. I’ve already got plans for a third one, as you can see with this ending, and, what really birthed this idea was something even crazier: a Kit/Ben prequel. Hot damn. I dunno, I just really want to explore that side of Kit, see how fucked up it all really was, because it was, oh man, and so I think I’ll be doing that sometime soon. But yeah, you can expect yet another kitrichard, as well as a kitben sometime in the future. Who knows, I take forever to write things.
> 
> So, that’s my news. Series, prequels, sequels, all sorts of fun. But, what did you think of this one? I was a little iffy on if the ending was going to work, but I think it came together nicely, and it definitely opens up for some awesomeness in the third one. I’m sorry that John turned out that way—I totally didn’t mean to until it was already happening, as seems to work with me. Okay, I’m going to stop talking now. Here’s a [shenanigans](http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?cj6ab6sjq19fcjf) link for the mixtape, and don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


End file.
